


throw your weight around behind me

by sandpapersnowman



Category: Blood Drive (TV)
Genre: (kinda), M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 12:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11509857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: He doesn't know what hit him, but he knows he's suddenlyveryuncomfortable andveryhard.





	throw your weight around behind me

**Author's Note:**

> this isnt THE fic for this episode and is inaccurate to the ep but i already had it mostly done before the sex plague ep aired so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> title from phoenix's [fior di latte](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/phoenix/fiordilatte.html) lmao

He's _itching_ with it.

He doesn't know why, or what it is, he just --

Arthur presses a palm between his legs again, looking for _some_ kind of relief, some kind of --

He brings his other hand up to his mouth to cover it before he groans. Something is happening and it's too much, but it's not enough, either, he --

"Officer Bailey!" Slink greets him, standing outside the passenger side door. "Funny running into you here."

It's not funny at all, and he wants to be suspicious because this sure is convenient timing, but he can't think past the feeling of --

"What are you _fucking_ standing there for?" he asks. It's muffled through his palm, but Slink seems to have understood.

He opens the car door for him and Arthur just about spills out, his hands instead grabbing at Slink to pull him closer. Slink is terrible, and Arthur hates him, but Grace is off somewhere busy and he already knows this will be so much worse if he doesn't get it out of his system _now_.

"Someone's feeling handsy," Slink comments, while Arthur is fumbling with his belt buckle and yanking him forward by it in the same motions.

"Did you do this?" Arthur asks. His mouth feels dry, and the words don't come easily.

"I _wish_ ," Slink sighs, and runs a hand through Arthur's hair like he's a _pet_.

It's humiliating, and disgusting, and for some reason Arthur is absolutely getting off on it.

"I need --"

"-- I know," Slink says. His fingers go through Arthur's hair again, blunt nails rubbing at his scalp, and Arthur's eyes nearly roll back. It's stimulation, it's touch, it feels like _praise_. "Turn around, darling."

A term of endearment shouldn't sound so nice coming from someone as sleazy as Slink, but Arthur's bones vibrate with it as he complies, laying himself over the leather passenger's seat so Slink can run his hands down his waist, his hips, the outsides of his thighs -- the position is awkward and his boots slip in the dirt when he tries to get more comfortable, but it's how he's going to get what he needs.

There's the briefest sense of embarrassment when he feels Slink's hands under him, undoing his belt and pants for him so he can expose him and get him where he needs to be, but any hesitation in him gets drawn out and thrown away when Slink pushes his shirt up too, and runs an open hand over his stomach and down over his cock through his underwear.

"Please," Arthur shudders, like Slink isn't giving him _exactly_ what he needs.

"Just relax," Slink whispers back. His hand trails back up around his hip, following the waistband of his briefs, and Arthur feels his fingers catch on them and pull those down too.

His hands leave Arthur's hips for something, and Arthur groans and ruts up against the hot leather seats -- shit, Grace is gonna kill him if he makes a mess -- until Slink slides cold fingers over the back of his neck.

And slides a cold, _wet_ finger between his legs.

Yes, _yes_ , that's what he needed. He arches back against him, trying to get his ass higher up and further back, and Slink lets him.

Slink doesn't even have the tip of a finger in yet and he could _cry_ , it feels so good.

"Please," someone is begging. Is that him? " _Please_ ," the same person begs, voice strained and high. He thinks it _is_ him.

"So polite," Slink praises him, and Arthur feels him press a finger into him. He gives easily, too fucked up on whatever this is to be tense.

Any other time, he'd be disgusted that Slink apparently carries lube everywhere. Not shocked, but grossed out. Instead, feeling more wet touches and excess lube sliding down his thighs while Slink keeps fingering him, he briefly considers ducking his head, saying a prayer, and thanking God for it. He doesn't, but he _very_ strongly considers it.

The fingers on the back of his neck are stroking and petting at the base of his skull, brushing through his hair -- cool points of focus on his skin when everything else feels like fire, and he leans into that too.

Slink's fingers are the only thing he can feel over the way every nerve ending in his body is _screaming_ for stimulation.

"You want to feel better, sweetheart?"

Arthur nods against the seat and shuffles himself back again, desperate, and when this wears off he'll be mortified at the image of himself like this, clothes rucked up and shoved down and him _presenting_ himself like an animal in heat, but he pushes back against Slink again. He can _feel_ Slink's cock pressed against him, with a layer some still-rational part of him figures must be a condom between them.

" _Please,_ " he asks again. "God, I need it, you have to -- I _need it_ , I need it," he whimpers. He doesn't know where the words are coming from, because he can barely think anyway, but it _works_.

He feels the too-smooth texture of latex slide into him, and while he should have been more patient and let Slink stretch him more, because it's not _perfectly_ comfortable, he can't imagine how desperate he'd be if he'd waited another second.

" _Yes_ ," he moans, whispered against leather, and pushes back. "Yes, _yes_ , _please_."

Slink's clean hand slips over Arthur's mouth to quiet him. It works, mostly; he stops babbling, but the noise he makes from the sudden interest in Slink's hand over his mouth is just as loud as anything else he's said.

He's ducked under the roof of the car to lean over Arthur, and he's heavier than he looks, but that's _perfect_. He feels pinned, and stuck, and then Slink pulls back and _fucks_ back into him and he nearly sees stars.

Slink is whispering to him, saying filthy things and sweet-talking him, but he can barely hear him over his own heart pounding.

He's probably going to regret this.

He can't find it in him to care.


End file.
